Frerard One-Shots

Maybe Being Pregnant Isn't That Bad?

Frank and Gerard were cuddling on the couch, watching some dumb movie on tv. One of Frank's tattooed hands were resting on the mid-size bump on Gee's stomach, the other was holding his phone and scrolling through tumblr. Frank was just passing some thing about chart topping lists when he saw this picture of his husband.

"Baby, when did you take this?" Frank showed his bright haired lover the picture he had come across, Gerard trying to crane his neck to look but had to pull Frank's hand down. "Like 6 months ago, why?" The red headed man questioned his tattooed husband, settling back into him and situating himself once again.

"Because you look pretty fuckin' cute." Gerard shrugged and smiled, trying to tug his (Frank's) shirt over his bulging tummy. "I really hate this, it doesn't even cover me. I want this little devil out." Gee was frustrated, huffing and puffing, wrestling to get the stupid shirt down over his tummy and trying to get comfortable once again.

"Gerard, stop. You're just gonna make yourself mad. It really shouldn't be that uncomfortable. You're not that big." "Hold up, what did you just say?" Gerard held his hand up, trying to sit up and glare at Frank. "Did you just tell me that I shouldn't be uncomfortable because I'm not that big? Well excuse you, but for one, I don't see you carrying around a human being in your stomach for nine months while it decides to climb your ribs like monkey bars and act like it's in the World Cup. Two, you don't look like a fucking blimp. Three, you don't have a human being kicking at your insides all day. Now, I'm gonna go in the bedroom. Don't come in unless there's food or you want to apologize."

Gerard got off of the couch, trying to sassily walk to their bedroom, but waddling slightly like a cute little penguin. Frank just rubbed his hands over his eyes, massaging his temple. "Who's idea was this?" Frank sighed, going out into the kitchen to make coffee for his pregnant, moody, serial killer, husband.

Frank pulled out his phone, dialing his mom's number. After a couple minutes of ringing, she finally picked up. "Hey, baby." Linda Iero, Frank's energetic, passionate, and weird mother, spoke up. "Hey momma, how irritable were you when you were pregnant with me?"

Frank pulled out two coffee cups from the cupboard above, and set them down gently. "Well, I wouldn't say bad, but you'd have to ask your father. He's the one who really knows. Would you like to ask him sweetheart?" Frank nodded, then remembering his mother couldn't see him, answered her with a yes.

Some shuffling went on before his father's gruff voice was on the line. "Frankie! How are you, son?" He grabbed the pot handle and poured some into both cups, walking over to the fridge to grab the milk and some creamer. "Well, now that Gerard is entering that stage of being extremely irritable, I'd say not so good. This is the tenth time this week he's gotten pissed at something I said. How bad was mom when she was pregnant with me?"

Frank's father laughed on the other line, and Frank raised an eyebrow. "Well, Frank, let's just say that your mother was literally Satan himself. She was just so hard to be around because you could say one word and she'd just get pissed. Even if you breathed, she got mad." Frank sighed, praying to God that Gerard didn't get as bad as his mother. "Jesus Christ, I hope Gerard isn't the spawn of Satan. I might cry, Dad."

Frank's father just chuckled, saying a quick goodbye to his son, it was time for him and Linda to leave for somewhere. Frank also said goodbye, to both of his parents, and hung up the phone. He picked up both mugs, which were finished, and walked towards their bedroom.

"Gee, let me in. I have coffee." Frank heard silence for a couple minutes, then footsteps walking towards the locked door. Suddenly, the door opened to reveal a slightly puffy-eyed Gerard. Frank handed Gee his mug, walking past Gerard, and towards the bed. "Were you crying, baby boy?" Frank sat down on his side of the bed, putting his cup down on the nightstand, and holding his arms out for his husband.